Fake dating

This wasn't a good idea, Artus thought once again as he stood outside Rita's bookstore. The moment he decided he should leave instead, he'd just have to start walking, no exits involved. Easy.

He didn't move an inch.

In two days, Rita would be engaged. Frederic would be engaged. The two people he was fond of the most. To each other, even. Excellent.

This… thing he was feeling. That was just a pesky detail, a minor inconvenience. And maybe if he just let it all out tonight, it would disappear, like a popped blister. That's all this was, a blister.

"Artus!"

Artus jumped out of his skin. "Rita. What's wrong?"

"Nothing? I'm ready!" Rita spread her arms, as if to say 'ta-dah!'. And she did look a little different, sporting a wrist purse and clothes that didn't blend in with the bookshelves.

"But Best Honya doesn't close for another hour."

"Philippa said she'd close up. Also some of the customers were pitying you for having to stand outside like that and asked me if we were fighting. I can't have people think that I banished you."

"Oh." Artus vaguely recalled exchanging forgotten words with customers as they came and went. "If that's the problem, I can wait inside."

"Eh, I've already signed off. We might as well go." Rita's smile widened. Was her smile always so bright? "You said we're going into town for the evening, right?"

"Right. I was thinking..." He cleared his throat self-consciously. "Since this is our final lesson, it's fitting to do something holistic. A practice excursion."

"So a practice date?"

"A practice… date," Artus agreed.

He half-expected Rita to figure out what he was doing, or to say this was inappropriate, but instead she just grinned wider. "I've learned a lot about dating these past few months. I'll make this the best date. Nobody will be able to resist my charms!"

Artus returned a faint smile. "Maybe."

#

The last time Artus saw the fair in the old quarter, he'd been a child, doing his best to keep up with his younger brother. It hadn't changed much since then in its bright colors and festive atmosphere, though now that he wasn't a prince, the crowd impressed upon him much more.

Rita's face lit up as they passed a pair of jugglers. "It's so lively! It's a little different than what I was imagining, though."

"Oh? What were you imagining?"

"Hmm, less sports and more games." Rita gestured to the races section. The humans in their race had just outpaced the chickens in theirs.

"There are plenty of games, aren't there?" As far as Artus was concerned, there were too many horseshoes and balls in one area to be safe.

"It's mostly sports. And I was imagining… some smaller games with prizes. Like, where there's a pool of tiny fish, and you try to catch a fish with a paper net, and then you get to keep it."

Artus covered a snort. "Why would you make a net out of paper?"

"If it's anything else, it'll be too easy, wouldn't it?"

"I can't argue that. You can invent such a game, though surely everyone would think it's rigged and not play it."

"You think you're so smart," Rita said dryly, but then something caught her attention. "Ooh! Be right back!"

"Eh?" While the fair was safe, Artus still didn't want to lose eyes on someone as unpredictable as Rita. He had no idea how Rita managed to weave through the crowd so quickly—by the time he reached her, she'd already bought a large cup of spiced wine.

Artus threw her an exasperated look. "I could have just come with you."

"Oh! You're right. I had an idea and just got excited."

His exasperation instantly turned suspicious. "If you're dumping that drink on me..."

"Haha, oh Artus, you don't have to worry about that!"

"I'm surprised you have the nerve to sound so incredulous."

"Mm." Rita sipped the wine. "So tasty."

"Are you ignoring me on purpose?"

She held out the cup to him. "You should have some!"

"No, thank you. Besides, I know how much you covet your food and drink."

Rita's cheeks puffed in a pout. "I'm trying to share an indirect kiss. Lots of romance stories have that."

Did they? And what was an indirect kiss? "What's an indirect kiss?"

"When you drink something and someone else drinks out of it, so you're kissing the same thing."

"So a used napkin is also romantic?"

"That wouldn't count! This way you're also sharing spit and the like."

This was just one of many things about Rita that should make Artus not like her, yet here he was. "That sounds incredibly unromantic, even to me. Besides, what sort of cheap man doesn't just buy the lady he likes her own drink?"

"Hmm. I can't decide whether that's forward thinking or backwards."

"From what I've read of these romances, spending money on your love interest is the height of attractiveness," Artus said. "Buying out whole stores, buying stores even. Even when the lady protests that it's far too much, I suppose she secretly enjoys the wanton wastefulness."

"I was going to be happy that you've been taking romance notes too, but you sound so cynical when you describe it."

"I just don't think it's logical that a sensible heroine would fall in love with such a senseless man. It seems to me that the love interest is written for the reader, not the heroine."

"That's an interesting way to look at it." Rita threw him a sly look. "I guess you're such a purist about other things, it makes sense you're a purist about romantic chemistry, too. But sometimes, people really do fall for unexpected people. Just because it isn't logical to you doesn't mean it can't happen."

"...True."

"So now we've heard complain-y Artus, how about some good notes? Surely you learned a useful thing or two."

He raised an eyebrow at her description, but didn't argue with it. "I have. Should I try them out on you?"

Rita blinked. "O-oh? As in, you're going to try to woo me?"

Artus tried to keep his voice unchanged. "As you've said before, it's not genuine practice if I don't participate."

"Wow, I feel so special. I thought you said romancing was tedious work."

"I'm not afraid of work."

"Eh heh, that's the spirit! Soo you're going to share this wine with me, right?"

"I just said, only a cheap man would make his significant other share."

"Gosh, you've already failed the first test! If I think it's romantic, that's all that matters."

Artus studied her. "You're right. Then, I suppose I don't mind stealing some." He reached out, but instead of taking the cup, he brushed a thumb on the corner of her wine-stained lips and brought it to his mouth. "It tastes nice."

"... ...!!"

He turned away so she couldn't see the flush he felt searing his face. "Looks like there's an archery competition. Could be fun."

"Artus!" Rita sputtered behind him. "W-wow! The romantic smudge! You really did read the novels I gave you!"

"So I'm winning?"

"Oh, it's a competition now, eh? I suppose you've won this round, but it was very sneaky."

Artus chuckled, just a little.

Even though they had a whole extra hour Artus hadn't anticipated, the evening melted away. They watched the current round of archery while eating hotcakes, and Artus participated in the next round, winning it handily.

Rita clapped as he returned with a winner's rose. "You won, congratulations!"

"...To be honest, I thought you would be more impressed."

"Frederic already told me that you were an amazing archer."

"He did?"

"Oh yes, he told me all sorts of things about you."

"...Like what."

She grinned at him. "It's a secret."

Next they perused the dense rows of merchants, all surrounded in a large halo of their goods.

Artus pointed to a pair of shoes more akin to wool slippers. "Shall I get you these?"

"Eh? Why those? Even I think they're ugly. Sorry sir, no disrespect meant," Rita added to the merchant.

"They look comfortable. You've been on your feet for a while, so you should switch shoes so you don't hurt later."

"No, I'm fine. I picked walking shoes for today. Why do you look so disappointed? I thought you'd be proud of my foresight."

"In lots of your romance novels, the heroine hurts her foot, usually by wearing inappropriate footwear, so the hero helps her with it. But you're completely unmoved by my gesture."

"Oh, I do like those scenes...but the way you're doing it is less romantic than motherly."

Sunset turned to dusk, and the fair's torches lit one by one. Artus had planned for them to watch an acrobatics show before the dance, but they ended up talking about nothing until the music hummed from the square. Artus offered his arm—a self-conscious action that had turned natural over the evening—and they made their way not to the square, but to the lookout that offered a view of the square from above. A folk melody floated upward from the gaggle of musicians, and dancing figures spread apart and came together in unison like hands opening and closing.

Rita looked between Artus and the square below in puzzlement. "Didn't you want to dance?"

"These can be large social dances. It'd be easier for us to try out the steps up here at our own pace, since you might not know the dances."

"I'll give you a point for being so thoughtful, but your explanations are always so dry."

"Then how about, 'I wanted to spend more time alone with you'?"

"Better. I sort of prefer something like, 'The view from here is my favorite. I come here by myself often...'"

"Isn't that just being thoughtful? What makes it more romantic than the other lines?"

"Mm, I'll leave that as homework for you."

The next melody started. Rita placed one hand in Artus's, the other on his waist. They moved slowly, half-speed to the music, their swaying in tempo but any turns careful. Her hands felt warm in his, and her hair tickled his neck with each night breeze. Artus tried not to think of how selfish he was being, how he was proving Renaud right. Surprisingly it was easy, every time the torchlight caught on Rita's face.

Rita completed a turn, too slow in the middle and too fast in the end. She peeked at him as he took both her hands again. "Am I doing it right?"

Artus's mouth flickered upward in a faint smile. "No. In fact, you put your hands in the wrong place in the very beginning."

"Eh?? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you've taught me that sometimes doing things right isn't the same as doing them well. I'm enjoying myself. How about you?"

"Um... Yeah. I'm having a lot of fun, too."

The song changed, and then again. The night sky darkened to leave only stars. Artus stopped dancing, though his hands lingered. "It's late. I should get you back before Mazarin comes looking for you."

Rita's laugh was a little subdued, maybe from the hour. "Right. Can't have that. I wouldn't want her to beat you up." A beat. "Uh, Artus? Are you okay? Aren't you going to say something like, 'That's insulting!'?"

"To properly woo someone, you need a confession," Artus said. "I hope you don't mind that I play myself, rather than Prince Frederic."

"Oh. Oh Artus, you don't need to go that far..."

"I don't mind. I have one ready. Lady Rita, I've known you since we were children, and I have never cared for your beauty."

"...Wow..."

“Yet in these past few months I have found myself utterly charmed, by your smile, your kindness, your joy of living. The disgrace of my past still haunts me at night, but my days are no longer just the punishment for it. That you’ve done this while being the sort of person who scribbles all over her books proves how exceptionally wonderful you are in other ways.
“I thought I would hate all nobility to my death, but somehow at some point I came to love you. And I should praise the heavens for my fortune, that the best man I know should marry the best woman.” Artus brought her fingers to his lips. He tried not to savor the touch, even though in his mind it was a last goodbye.

They were quiet a while. “Did you really come up with that…just for this date?”

“Like I said, I’m not afraid of work.”